Epilogue
Theo
Five Years Later
My dick still only gets hard when I’m with July.
Some people might see it as a curse or an affliction, but me, personally?
I fucking love it. It gets her hot—and I’m all for anything that does that. I’m in heat the moment I see her. My security job takes me on small trips occasionally, if the businessmen we’re protecting need to travel. By the time I get home after a few days without my woman, I’m so stiff I’m stumbling like a drunk through the front door, shouting for that pussy. We’ve damn near worn a spot on the living room rug where I’ve torn into her after work trips.
Today is one of those days.
I’ve been gone for my longest trip yet. Five grueling days.
It’s the only downside to being promoted to head of security within the thriving company. I need to be present to survey event venues before high-profile guests arrive. Our clients are paying a premium and they want a supervisor running the show. That’s me. When I returned to the States, before I met July, I never could have imagined I’d have a lucrative career. One that is such an easy fit for me. Maybe I would have gone into the darkness and never come out, if it wasn’t for my wife.
In the back of the cab I took from the airport, I rub my chest. Something I found out over time is that, in addition to my physical demands for July—and July only—my heart starts to hurt the longer I’m away from her and the kids. Right now, it feels ruptured.
Judging I’m about five minutes from the house we bought in the Chicago suburbs, I take out my phone and open the app that allows me to see a live camera feed to various rooms of my house. I installed the system myself, because I wasn’t about to leave my family for days on end without being able to get eyes on them. Know they’re safe.
As I’ve done frequently, I check the feed for our bedroom, sitting up straighter when I see my wife laying on the bed in nothing but pink thong panties. She’s on her stomach, knees bent, feet elevated behind her, leafing through a magazine. As I watch, she picks up the magazine and rolls over onto her back, giving me a look at the tits I’ve been craving like oxygen for five days. Almost as much as her daily spanking.
I realize I’m beginning to breathe hard when the driver turns his head slightly, casting me a quick glance over his shoulder.
There’s no calming me down, though. Not when she’s almost in front of me.
I’m an obsessed husband with balls that only empty for my wife.
It’s hard to be casual.
Therapy has been incredible for my PTSD and the nightmares that plagued me. They are few and far between and hopefully someday, they’ll be gone completely. I no longer fall asleep worried I’ll manhandle July while in the haze of a battlefield nightmare, my unconscious mind unable to temper my strength. God knows I’m rough enough with her in our everyday sex life. Here’s the thing, though. She requests it rough.
Begs for it in that husky whine of hers that is probably responsible for us having a second child so soon after the first. When she whines for something, I give it. Case in point, we have two sons now. Dylan and Hunter. Dylan, the youngest, is quiet and likes to nap with his arms thrown out, like he’s flying. Hunter never goes anywhere without a soccer ball. They’re miracles, our boys. And God, they love their mother. She loves them fiercely, too, and hates leaving for work every morning. There have been times over the last five years where she considered leaving her position as head of design at Donner Advertising, but she still needs that creative outlet. She’s damn good at what she does, too. My pride knows no bounds when it comes to July.
Neither does my lust.
Christ, I might come in my pants before I make it to the bedroom where she’s currently stretched out on top of the comforter, humming to herself. As I watch, she slowly drags the thong down her hips and thighs, twirling them around her finger before flinging them across the room.
She knows I’m watching her.
That’s the only explanation.
Thank God the kids are at daycare. If they weren’t, I’d have to lock us in the en suite bathroom, cover her mouth and bang her on the sink, the way I’ve done countless times since the boys were born. My drive to get my come inside my wife is a part of me that only balloons over time. It’s a necessity. She’s a necessity.
One I’m desperate for right now.
By the time the cab pulls up in front of the house, my hands are shaking so bad, I can barely run my credit card through the reader. The numbers are blurring in front of my eyes. My cock knows my wife is close and it’s beginning to stiffen for the first time in five days. Rapidly. I make a guttural sound into my wrist while climbing out of the cab, ignoring a call of hello from my neighbor, retrieve my duffel from the trunk and clamber toward the big Victorian we’ve been fixing up, room by room. It would have been complete, except I get uncontrollably horny watching her do anything .
“July,” I bark as soon as I’m inside the door.
All the shades are drawn on the windows.
Music throbs from the speakers.
I drop my bag, barely able to walk, my clothes suddenly far too tight.
“July,” I choke out, wrestling with my zipper.
When she sways naked into the room, even in my state of intense arousal, I take a moment to marvel over how confident she’s become. How self-assured and seductive. What a beautiful thing to bear witness to this woman thriving and know we belong to each other.
“Baby, please,” I say, my words nearly sucked up by the music.
“I know, Daddy,” she murmurs against my lips, her hand sliding deftly down the front of my pants to massage me in a fist, my groan echoing through the entryway and living room. “I missed you, too.”
“Too long. It was too long without you.”
“I know how you feel.” Our mouths find one another, opening at first touch, tongues meeting in a fleeting lick. “You’re alone in the house with your little girl.” She blinks up at me with innocence that gets my blood pumping even hotter, because it means she’s in the mood to play. “I’m walking around naked, even though you’ve told me to wear clothes so many times. What are you going to do about it?”
It takes me a few beats to respond, because I’m so focused on not blowing a load in my pants, but Jesus, she knows how to mold me in that hand. “You never do what you’re told, do you?” I snag her wrist and hold it with just enough pressure that excitement sparks in her eyes. “I think it’s time you had your little princess mouth fucked. Maybe once you’ve had your throat used, you’ll remember to put on underpants before parading through the house.”
“Just underpants, Daddy? No shorts or top?” she whispers, leaning in to work her tongue into my mouth, keeping it shallow enough to make me crazy, my breath puffing in and out of my nostrils like a bull before a fight. “Maybe you like peeking.”
“Go lay on the couch,” I growl.
My pulse is slamming in my temples as I watch her tight ass strut to the living room couch and lay on her back, one leg cocked sassily. Back arched to display her prize tits.
My wife is a menace and a revelation. She’s probably dreaming up ways to make me hot that haven’t been invented yet. Right now, though, I’m balanced on a razor’s edge of pain, my dick cradled in one hand as I follow her to the couch, my knees planting near her elbows, my body pitching forward and catching myself on the arm of the furniture, jamming my long cock right between those swollen lips.
“Suck for forgiveness,” I rasp, my head falling back, lost to the bliss of her heated mouth. “It’s about time you learned the taste of my sperm.”
A shy blink. “I’ve wanted to know for so long, Daddy.”
“Oh Lord.”
We remain locked in our forbidden game, her fingers rubbing in the valley of her slippery pussy while I plow her mouth, eventually giving her five days of frustration, my shouts of relief loud enough to strain my vocal cords. She accepts my come with her throat while her own orgasm crests, her eyes going unfocused, her throat vibrating around me and extending my pleasure, as if it were necessary.
“July,” I pant, falling onto her, gathering close my life’s treasure and laying kisses on every inch of her skin I can reach. “July, I missed you so much. I could barely focus.”
“You have to focus,” she whispers, kissing my jaw, my mouth. “So you can come back to me every single time.”
I look her in the eye, giving her the weight of my love and accepting hers in return. “Nothing in this world could keep me from you.”
Her eyes take on a sheen. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
THE END